Sam hustled Lauren to the end of the dock. “You"ll need to travel under another alias. The authorities will be watching for you. Do you have a photo? I can"t give up the one in my wallet. It"s the last one I have.”
“Here,” she said as she handed him a photo of her and Anya, “will this do?”
“Yes, come with me. This place is an Aussie hang-out, so we can get some assistance,” he explained as he hurried her into Lem"s Pub. As Sam and Lauren cut through the crowd of local fishermen to the battered wood plank bar, she was oblivious to the admiring glances of several patrons. When her eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, she looked up to see a salt-streaked canopy of old buoys and tattered fishing nets.
“You a tourist?” a weathered seaman asked her.
Lauren noticed how he rolled his vowels
